


Jillian Holtzmann Doesn't Get Scared

by StHoltzmann



Series: Kink is in the Mind of the Beholder (Kinktober 2018) [3]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Canon Bisexual Character, Crossover, Crying, Don't Try This At Home, F/F, Fear Play, I promise everyone is OK in the end, Kinktober, Knifeplay, Mindfuck, Now Leaving: My Comfort Zone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 01:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16231196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StHoltzmann/pseuds/StHoltzmann
Summary: “Fear is a powerful aphrodisiac.” — Rosa Diaz“I ain’t afraid of no nuclear meltdown.” — Jillian Holtzmann, probablyAfter the events of“Rosa Diaz Doesn’t Beg,”Rosa promised revenge. And what goes better together than Rosa and knives?Kinktober day 3 prompt: Knifeplay.





	Jillian Holtzmann Doesn't Get Scared

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE NOTE: I didn’t tick the “graphic depictions of violence” box, but the possibility of bodily harm is present for most of the fic. But, you know, you can trust me.

Holtzmann had gone back several times to the bar where she’d encountered Rosa Diaz, but for two or three weeks, the other woman hadn’t shown up. Maybe she hadn’t been serious about her promise of revenge after all. Still, Rosa seemed like someone who kept her promises, so Holtzmann kept turning up.

Finally, on a chilly late October evening, Rosa announced herself by dropping a black carrying case onto the bar in front of Holtzmann. She didn’t even sit down, just hooked a boot heel on the footrest of Holtzmann’s stool. Then she leaned in, so that Holtzmann couldn’t see much other than Rosa’s face, framed by her delightfully untamed hair. She smelled faintly of motor oil, which was definitely one of the top ten ways Holtzmann wanted a woman to smell.

“Ninety minutes from now.” Rosa named a room number at a hotel that made Holtzmann’s eyebrows shoot up.

“That’s a choice off the fancy-pants menu,” Holtzmann said. She fumbled over to her cider with one hand and finished it off, not breaking eye contact.

Rosa shrugged. “Furniture’s sturdier at nice hotels.”

“Oh. Uh, I see. Not going to your place, huh?”

“If we did, I’d have to move tomorrow. So no.”

Holtzmann laughed. It was funny because she was pretty sure Rosa was 100% serious. “What’s in the case?”

“What, you’re the only one who can have toys?”

The bartender put a whiskey down in front of Rosa, glanced at the two of them, and quickly made their way back to the other end of the bar. Rosa tossed the drink back and then opened the case.

Knives. Several knives. And definitely not the Swiss Army kind.

Huh.

Rosa unsheathed one. The handle curved into her hand, and the blade itself was long, maybe 20 centimeters, and not thin. It shone with a wicked red light, the reflection of the vintage neon on the wall behind them. “I’m a low-tech girl. Knives? Knives are basic. Nothing else more basic, except fists and teeth. You see one, you know what it’s for.”

Holtzmann was wearing four layers of clothing, but she had gooseprickles down her spine anyway. “OK, can’t really argue with that…”

Rosa laid the bare knife down on the bar, letting the fingers of her right hand rest lightly on the handle. She took Holtzmann’s hand with her left, and inspected the skin on her fingers. Then she pushed Holtzmann’s sleeve up and looked at her lower arm for a moment.

Rosa gave a faint, lopsided smile. “You don’t flinch easy, huh?”

Holtzmann’s skin tingled. She tried to ignore it, to look at herself and see whatever Rosa saw.

Oh. The tiny and not-so-tiny scars, from sparks, equipment slips, corrosive material spills, hot metal…Holtzmann shrugged. “The stuff I build is sensitive, y’know, it’s not like banging nails into wood. I can’t just freak out and drop—”

“How often d’you get scared, Holtzmann?” Rosa let Holtzmann’s hand go and picked up the knife without looking at it.

Holtzmann blinked. She couldn’t decide where to look, the glinting blade or Rosa’s eyes, burning with something Holtz didn’t understand. Not yet, anyway. “Uh—”

“Gonna bet we’re the same. You don’t really get scared when you’re responding to a call.” Rosa paused. “Not unless your squad is in danger.”

Holtzmann couldn’t think of a witty comeback. This conversation had taken a weird turn, even considering it that hadn’t started out normally. “All right, can’t argue with that, either. What—”

“You got some unexamined trauma, Holtz?”

“Uh. Maybe. You been abusing your powers to look into me?”

Rosa shook her head. “No. That shit’s creepy. Just playing a hunch. I don’t need details, I’m not your goddamn doctor. And I’m not gonna tell you mine. I just repress everything, like a cool person.” She sighed. “OK, that’s not exactly true. But my shrink is a biker babe, so that counts for something. Anyway. I’m right, yeah?”

“I think this might be _worse_ than small talk,” Holtzmann said. “But yeah, fine.” She’d never really gotten over the Abby/Rowan/attempted murder/window thing—she didn’t want Abby to know she even remembered it, so talking about it was a no-go. And there was other stuff, from earlier in her life.

“Fear is a powerful aphrodisiac.” Rosa savored the words, like it was something she enjoyed saying and had said before. “Sounds cheesy, huh? But no lie. I mean, when you do it right.”

She picked up the knife again and inspected its edge, then glanced at Holtzmann, gaze just as sharp as the blade. “You said you were going to make me beg, and like it, and you did. You know what I’m gonna do?” Rosa’s voice got lower and rougher. “I’m going to make you afraid, Jillian Holtzmann. I’m going to show you fear. You’re going to throw yourself into it. I’m going to get off on it. And it’s all going to be worth it.”

She put the blade away and snapped the case shut. “Now’s your chance to wimp out.”

Holtzmann’s heart was pounding already. She was going to have to chill if she wasn’t going to give Rosa the satisfaction of seeing her nerves. Although maybe she wanted to let Rosa see. She didn’t know.

“No blood, right?” Holtzmann asked. Had her voice wobbled? No, no, definitely not, it was all fine. “I donated to the Red Cross on Thursday, is all.” Holtzmann winked.

She had sort of expected Rosa to laugh at her and say no way, of course not, but instead Rosa picked up the case and said, all seriousness, “Only if you ask me to.”

“Oh—right, that’s thoughtful, thanks—”

“Don’t wear anything you want to keep,” Rosa said, stepping back from Holtzmann’s stool. “Bring a change of clothes.” She turned and strolled out of the bar.

Holtzmann chewed on her lower lip for a moment. Then she hopped off of her stool and went home to find the pile of clothes that Erin had told her couldn’t be worn in public anymore.

* * *

Ninety minutes later, more or less, Holtzmann knocked on the hotel room door. Rosa opened it and gestured for Holtz to come in. It was a big suite, though Holtz could only see pools of light in the darkness. Holtzmann dropped her duffel bag on a small bench near the door, shucked off her vintage military-style jacket, and stuffed it inside of the bag. She was definitely keeping the jacket; Patty had said it looked sharp, and the wool felt was super, super warm. Then she took off her glasses and put those on top.

“Take your shoes off,” Rosa said, and Holtz did.

The rest of Holtzmann’s outfit was an old sports bra and briefs, a paisley button-down that was _perfectly_ _fine_ other than the acid holes near the hem and scattered across the back, and a pair of velveteen pants that were wearing thin. Rosa looked her over and nodded.

Rosa looked good—fucking fantastic, even—in boots, leather pants, and a black tank top that fit her perfectly. And since she didn’t have anything over it, showed off her arm muscles as well. Her hair had been pulled back with an elastic, although curls were already escaping

And there was a worryingly large knife in a sheath slung from the the belt that rode low around her hips. She definitely looked ready for something, though Holtzmann wasn’t sure what. Slaughtering her way out of a post-apocalyptic hellscape, maybe, and then triumphantly making out with Imperator Furiosa.

Other than that, things seemed pretty normal so far. Nothing to be afraid of.

“Come on,” Rosa said. She went into the living room adjoining the entrance hall, and Holtzmann scrambled to catch up.

The room was all dark wood and matte gold. Everything looked expensive. There were even actual live plants here and there. A fancy metal ice bucket, with something in it and a towel draped over it, sat on a table. Rosa’s case of blades was there too, open. The lights were focused on the table, filling the corners with darkness and casting long shadows across the room.

“Safe word and gesture?” Rosa asked.

Holtzmann had actually prepared a smartass answer to match Rosa’s from the previous time, but it had flown out of her head as soon as she’d come in. So she just answered. “Ada. And…” She made the Vulcan salute.

Rosa snorted. “I’ll be watching.” Then she lunged forward, grabbed Holtzmann by the shoulders, and thrust her knee between Holtzmann’s legs. Holtzmann’s back thudded into the wall between the corner and the table. Her breath flew out of her but Rosa covered her mouth with her own before Holtzmann could even breathe in. Her leg pressed against Holtzmann’s pelvis so hard that she was lifted up ever so slightly by Rosa’s momentum.

Holtzmann wasn’t scared, though. Just turned on and surprised. And hey, surprising her was a pretty good trick, so points to Rosa for that.

Holtz’s arms were caught between their chests; she couldn’t even pull Rosa toward her or push her away—which was fine, she didn’t want to push Rosa away. Rosa’s lips were hard on hers, her tongue pushing its way wherever it wanted to go. Then she suddenly reached for something with one hand, and Holtzmann nearly jumped. Maybe she was a little nervous after all. Just a little. Rosa grabbed Holtzmann’s chin with her other hand and pushed her fingers into Holtz's mouth. It felt good, to be dominated like that by a woman like Rosa. Holtzmann licked at Rosa’s fingers, looking for a reaction, but Rosa's face was turned away from her. She'd grabbed a pole from the corner and was maneuvering it toward toward the hanging plant over their heads. Her grip on Holtzmann’s jaw and mouth tightened as she strained for her target, and her breasts pushed into Holtz’s face as she rose up on her toes. Holtzmann breathed her in.

So far, this was a damn good time, completely worth taking a break from the proton trebuchet she’d been working on.

Rosa’s fingers relaxed their grip and vanished from Holtzmann’s mouth. She opened her eyes to see Rosa lowering the plant to a side table. Why the heck was she redecorating now?

Holtzmann looked up. There was a heavy duty hook bolted into the ceiling, but more crucially, there was also a chain, a leather strap, and two cuffs. She wondered if she was tall enough to not wind up having to stand on her tiptoes.

She had made the mistake of taking her eyes off of Rosa. When she glanced back down, Rosa was right in front of her, flipping a knife—not quite as big as the one from earlier, but still—between her fingers.

“Ah. Um. Hello again.”

Rosa smiled, her lips closed, and Holtzmann felt a flutter of trepidation in her stomach. Rosa reached between Holtzmann’s legs, pushed them apart a little, then smacked Holtzmann’s inner thigh with the flat of the knife. It stung, and sent a tingle directly to Holtz’s clitoris. “Wider,” Rosa instructed, and Holtzmann obeyed.

Then Rosa put the blade between her teeth, which should have made a funny picture, but didn’t, because the edge was facing Holtzmann and Rosa was leaning in close, grabbing Holtzmann’s wrists and swiftly buckling them over her head. She wouldn’t have to stand on her toes, and she could rest against the wall at her back a bit, but it was hard to feel any relief. She was still clothed, but stretched up like that, there was just … just a _lot_ of her exposed to Rosa. An awful lot of surface area.

Still smiling, Rosa stepped in and then there was a line of thin, keen cold pressing past the corner of Holtzmann’s jaw. Holtz froze. Rosa had just gone for it, just pressed a knife to Holtzmann, inches from some _very_ important blood vessels, and Holtz couldn’t tell if it was the dull back of the knife, or the edge but just not pressed in very far, and if she’d just been paying attention she could have seen how Rosa was holding it, but…

“Look at that,” Rosa said. She showed her teeth. “Your nostrils are flaring, your breathing is shallow, and…” She trailed the blade down Holtzmann’s neck and Holtzmann tried not to breathe at all. “I can see your pulse. It’s up. Still going up. So, you’re the science whiz. You turned on, or scared?”

Holtzmann licked her lips and spoke as carefully as she could. “I…don’t know.” This wasn’t entirely true; her clit was throbbing, like it had a mind of its own.

Rosa stepped back and lowered the blade but didn’t put it away. Holtz couldn’t stop staring at it. “It’ll get clearer.” She noticed Holtzmann’s gaze. “Ah. You wanna know how sharp this is, huh?”

No. Maybe. _What’s the right answer?_

Rosa flicked her wrist toward Holtzmann’s breastbone and a button flew off. Holtzmann hadn’t even felt anything. “That sharp.”

She watched in fascination as Rosa flicked off every remaining button. That was sharp. That was _really_ damn sharp. Then Rosa stepped in and put her arms around Holtzmann, and Holtzmann was confused, wondering if she looked like she’d needed comforting, when she felt the cold flat of the blade against her spine. Her skin crawled and Rosa smirked at her. Then the blade moved up, and Holtzmann felt a draft and then the cold wall against her back. Rosa cut the arms and what was left of the shirt to ribbons, until it all fell away. She trailed her hands—and the knife, again, down Holtzmann’s chest until she reached the sports bra.

“Hmm, elastic,” Rosa said. She put the knife down on the table and pulled out the one at her hip. She showed it to Holtzmann, holding it right in front of her eyes, and Holtzmann tried not to blink. This knife was huge, bigger than any knife really needed to be, and it looked like it could probably take her head off without needing a second stroke. Then Rosa moved—god, she was fast!—and wrenched the front of Holtz’s bra into her fist. She tore through it with the knife, and the fabric made a shocking ripping sound. She threw the scraps to the ground.

Holtzmann’s heart pounded. That knife, that instrument of death, had just been centimeters from her heart.

And her heart and breasts were no longer protected by even a layer of fabric.

She swallowed. She had to remind herself that Rosa—whose hair was coming loose and who looked like a goddess of destruction—was just a person, and that Holtzmann had a safeword and could use it, and that Rosa would stop.

Probably.

Anyway, she could see Rosa’s face, and what she was doing, so…it was fine, right? Leaving aside how damp Holtz’s underwear already was and the question of how it was possible to be both…uh…somewhat _alarmed_ and extremely aroused. In fact, the feeling in her pants made her want to wriggle, but now seemed like a bad time for wriggling.

“Don’t…fucking…move,” Rosa ordered. She touched the tip of the knife to Holtzmann’s nipple. It burned like cold electricity. Holtzmann stared down at it, metal against pink flesh, and held her breath.

Rosa moved down to cut Holtzmann’s pants off, leaving trails of goosebumps. She regarded Holtzmann’s underwear, and Holtzmann suddenly regretted having worn a second item of clothing with a thick elastic band. Rosa slid the knife under the briefs where they reached Holtzmann’s groin, and she almost gasped at the shock of the metallic cold _there,_ in such a tender place. Then Rosa grabbed the material, like she had the bra; yanked the underwear up sharply between the lips of Holtzmann’s vulva, and cut through the cloth.

Rosa stepped back and looked at Holtzmann. The smile was gone from her face. She was intensely focused. Holtzmann had been naked in front of a variety of other people in a variety of other situations, but she’d never felt so exposed before.

Rosa reached toward Holtz’s chest again. This time she lifted up Holtzmann’s “Screw U” pendant on the top of her knife. “I said ‘don’t wear _anything_ you want to keep,” she said.

Shit. The necklace was such a part of Holtzmann that she hadn’t even thought about its presence. “I—I forgot, sorry.” There was a moment where they both just stared at the necklace.

Then Rosa lifted it up and over Holtzmann’s head. She dropped it and the knife on the table with a clank. “You’re gonna have to show me how to make one. I need a new belt buckle. So…” She traced where the necklace had been with a finger. “Still not scared, huh?”

“I…uh—I’ll grant you I’m a little…hmm…apprehensive…But afraid? Nah.”

Rosa’s eyes were hungry. She moved her mouth to Holtzmann’s ear and whispered, “You should be.”

Holtzmann shivered and told herself that it was just from Rosa’s breath tickling her earlobe. A cheesy line like that couldn’t possibly be chilling. Right?

Then Rosa pulled something from her pocket and the next thing Holtzmann knew, there was light pressure on her eyelids, and she couldn’t see anything. “Now _this_ is what you use if you don’t want someone to see what you’re doing,” Rosa said. “None of that decorative Fifty Shades shit.”

Yeah, well, apparently so. Holtzmann couldn’t see a fucking thing. She strained her ears for any sounds: Rosa moving around. Metallic noises. Not much else. “Guess I should upgrade my equipment,” she said, attempting a laugh, trying to distract herself. Every inch of her skin prickled with wild anticipation.

“You gonna keep that up? Try and be a wiseass?”

“Hey, I got science, I got smartass, and I got crazy, you know?”

“Goddamn, I _really_ wanna gag you,” Rosa growled, very close all of a sudden. She clamped her hand over Holtzmann’s mouth. She just held it there for a moment, pressed tight, and Holtzmann’s arousal spiked along with her realization that she really _didn’t_ know what Rosa was going to do next.

“But I’m not gonna, not the first time. You’re just going to have to shut up on your own. No fucking quips.” She released her hand and Holtzmann was almost disappointed.

A pause.

“I’m gonna enjoy this a lot,” Rosa said. A smile crept into her voice.

Fast movement, and slam! Something hit the wall between Holtzmann’s legs. Almost like...almost exactly like—holy shit, had Rosa just driven a knife into the wall? Holtzmann’s mind raced. Was there anything else it even could be? Then a wrenching sound, and the back of Rosa’s hand—and what felt suspiciously like a knife handle—brushed Holtzmann’s inner thigh. A chill ran down her spine. That was by _far_ the closest a knife had ever been to Holtzmann’s vulva.

Was this for real? What was going to happen next? Was she safe, was she not safe—which one did she even want? Neither? Both?

“You gotta go with the fear. Then you gotta come out the other side.”

 _I don’t know where that is_ , Holtzmann thought, but then a cold metal edge traced its way across her collarbone, and she forgot everything else. There was only that singular sensation.

Burning, stinging pain flared across one nipple, and then the other. The sole reason she didn’t think she was bleeding was because she didn’t feel anything wet—not on her breasts anyway—and she knew Rosa wouldn’t cut her, but what if she did, and did Holtzmann almost want to know what that would feel like?

The stinging faded slowly and Holtzmann’s nipples tightened, like they wanted to get Rosa’s attention. But Rosa was doing something, switching implements, and Holtzmann imagined nearly every bladed object she’d ever seen in her life, one after the other coming toward her out of the darkness behind her eyelids.

“You’re gonna start shivering. Cut it out.”

She wasn’t, she—fuck, she was. Holtzmann took in a cautious breath, afraid to move too much, and breathed out slowly. She managed not to flinch when something touched her mouth; then she relaxed minutely when she realized it was just Rosa’s thumb stroking her lips.

She parted her lips slightly in response, and then there was a narrow, hard, pointed pressure on her lower lip where Rosa had been a moment before. Her muscles stiffened. Was that…That was the point of a knife, wasn’t it?

There was the barest of pressure downward. Holtzmann tentatively opened her mouth more, hoping that was what Rosa wanted, although she didn’t dare think why. The knife slid across her lip and oh fuck, no, Rosa wasn’t really going to—no, she was, it was going in, she was slipping the knife onto Holtzmann’s tongue. She was as still as she could be, but the sensitive nerves of her tongue were screaming, tingling, making her pulse pound in her ears and making heat flare between her legs.

“Lick it,” Rosa said, her voice thick. “ _Carefully_.”

A low whimpering sound came out of Holtzmann’s throat. The blade lifted slightly and Holtzmann focused all of her will on gently, gently lifting her tongue to the blade, and not moving a single other muscle of her body. She drew her tongue back, agonizingly slowly—not her favorite speed at which to do anything, but at any second she might slip, and feel the sharp edge of the blade against her tongue.

There were rare moments during busts and in Holtzmann’s lab when time crystallized and danger spiked, when she knew that if she waited a nanosecond too long to pull the trigger the ghost would be on top of her, tearing the flesh from her bones, or that if she breathed wrong her new prototype would go critical and rearrange every single one of her atoms. She _was_ afraid in those moments, but it was an invigorating fear, and normally just a single breath away from triumph.

This was sort of like that, but more visceral and more drawn-out, and she didn’t know at all what would follow the next breath, or the one after.

The point of the knife lingered at the tip of her tongue for a long moment, during which all she could hear was Rosa’s rough breathing. The knife pulled away and Rosa was at her ear. “My hands are off. If you need to freak out, now’s your chance.”

Holtzmann let something inside her unknot and shuddered violently, head to toe. The chain above her head rattled. She swore to herself, then louder and louder, shaking her head. “Fuck. _Fuck_. FUCK.”

“You scared?”

 _“_ Fuck you for even asking,” Holtzmann mumbled weakly. “Yeah, I’m scared.” Not past tense either. There was still the question of what was _next._

“You’re real strong, Holtz. You can get through this if you want to.” _Or I can stop right now_ was left hanging in the air.

Holtzmann managed to organize her body enough to nod. “Let’s go,” she forced out.

Rosa kissed her, suddenly, fiercely, and Holtzmann leaned into it. Then Rosa pulled away and ran her warm hands over Holtzmann’s body, from her neck to her breasts to her ass and thighs. She brushed her lips across Holtzmann’s navel and trailed her fingers down to the hair between Holtzmann’s legs. A pang of longing shot through Holtzmann’s vagina, followed immediately by a frisson of fear. Just what the _hell_ was Rosa planning to do?

Rosa moved away, and then there was the rasp of something heavy and metallic sliding across the desk. “Keep those legs apart. And then stay still.” Something sharp scraped obliquely across Holtzmann’s inner thighs, and Holtzmann tried hard not to twitch.

Rosa nudged the arch of Holtzmann’s foot with the toe of her boot. “Up,” she directed. Holtzmann lifted her foot, frantically wondering what was happening. Leather straps and metal fittings slid up her leg toward her crotch. “Used to make my own belts. Sometimes I make other things,” Rosa said, and Holtzmann bit her lip. Somehow, Rosa kept getting hotter. “Now, _really_ don’t. Fucking. Move.”

Cold metal hit the dampness at the opening to Holtzmann’s vagina. She didn’t try to stifle the yelp she let out, but she also didn’t move. The hard metal thing moved into her slowly. What the fuck was it—what the fuck—OK. OK. She was OK. Whatever it was, it was rounded. It wasn’t a blade. Big, though, and solid.

“Take it all in,” Rosa said. “If you can. But _don’t_ _move_.”

There was no resistance from Holtzmann, physical or otherwise; she was so wet that if the object wasn't sharp, the only reasons Rosa could possibly be going so slowly were the size of the thing, or its weight, or just wanting to take her time. Holtzmann breathed out as Rosa pushed whatever it was all the way inside. The muscles of her vagina fluttered and clenched onto it. There was a huff of satisfaction from Rosa, and then the rest of the leather was buckled around the other side of her groin.

The weight of what was inside was odd, almost like … almost like something extended from below it.

_Oh._

_Oh god_.

It was a knife after all. Just the handle, inside, buried in her up to the hilt, seated in the harness with the blade below. If she moved her hips she’d be able feel its weight more, figure it out, but then it would cut her, wouldn’t it? _Fucking hell_.

Rosa moved away again. There was the sound of a soft impact, like she’d just sat on something, and a zipper unzipping. Holtzmann floated in a black sea of terror, questions, and desperate, burning lust. What was happening?

Rosa’s breathing got heavier and louder. Rosa—was Rosa watching Holtzmann hanging there and trying keep her legs from trembling…and masturbating while she watched?

“Told ya this was gonna get my rocks off,” Rosa said, low and slow. “You feeling left out? What was the last thing I said?”

She waited, and Holtzmann said, shakily, “Don’t move?”

“Yeah. Remember that.”

There was a click, like a button being pressed, and then something that had been pressing into the top of Holtzmann’s vulva, which she’d assumed was just part of the hardware, began to buzz against her clit. A bullet vibrator. Holtzmann swore again, soundlessly. How was she going to—she couldn’t—fuck. She fought to stay still, torn between the promise of release and the threat of the knife. A flush spread over her whole body. It was starting to feel _so_ good, but she couldn’t concentrate on it all the way, she had to stay aware of everything else.

“Goddamn, just _look_ at you,” Rosa rasped. Holtzmann could now hear Rosa’s fingers moving on herself, faster and harder, and she wished she could see Rosa’s face. An eternity passed on Holtzmann’s end as she struggled to stay still despite the pressure inside, the wanting that kept building the closer Rosa got to coming. Holtzmann groaned from the pleasure and the agony, and Rosa’s groans mixed with hers.

Finally, Rosa gasped sharply several times one after the other, shouted, and pounded the floor with her boots. Holtzmann wished she could move too, but she couldn’t; she was frozen externally and spasming internally. Rosa zipped herself up and moved over to Holtzmann in two fast, heavy strides. “Afraid to come, huh?”

Holtzmann was no stranger to recklessness, but normally, to be honest with herself, it wasn’t in the face of genuine fear. This was different. She flushed deeper, part shame at her fear, part frustration with being _so close_. But she couldn’t move her hips how she needed to to come, couldn’t writhe and jerk, couldn’t—“Oh god, I can’t—I’m—it’s gonna…I—”

Rosa yanked the blindfold, or whatever it was, up to Holtzmann’s forehead. She took Holtzmann’s chin again, preventing her from looking around, and wrapped her other arm around her, pressing them together as Holtzmann, panting, tried not to move. Even though Holtzmann’s vision was blurry, she could still see the fire in Rosa’s eyes.

Rosa leaned her forehead against Holtzmann’s. “ _Do it anyway_.”

 _Fuck everything_. Holtzmann squeezed her eyes shut and moved her hips gingerly, just a little at first but then, as her body responded, more and more wildly. Rosa crushed their chests together and reached a hand down to Holtzmann’s crotch. She shoved the bullet hard into Holtzmann’s clit. Holtzmann jerked her hips wildly; cold metal touched the inside of her thighs, but if anything was bleeding, she couldn’t feel it, and so she didn’t care. She was ready to burst.

The orgasm ripped through her in staccato bursts, sharp and unrelenting, and Holtzmann’s muscles shuddered around the unyielding weight inside her vagina. Her thighs quaked uncontrollably. She buried her head in the side of Rosa’s neck and drew in racking breaths, straining against the cuffs, strap, and chain.

An unknowable amount of time later, Holtzmann, groaning, finally fell out of the orgasm, and suddenly she couldn’t keep her head up. Her chin dropped to her chest.

Rosa kissed her way down to Holtzmann’s crotch. Holtzmann didn’t have the strength to open her eyes, but she felt Rosa’s fingers undo the leather straps and slide the metal out. Next, Rosa released Holtzmann’s arms. Holtzmann swayed. Rosa immediately folded something soft around her and lifted her off of her feet. She carried her to the sofa and settled her there, leaning Holtzmann against her.

Something soft touched her face and she looked blearily up at Rosa, whose hair had finally completely escaped the elastic  and who was awkwardly dabbing at Holtzmann’s face with a red handkerchief. Holtzmann touched her cheeks and realized she’d been crying.

“That was fucking badass, Holtz,” Rosa said, her voice rough. She reached over to the coffee table and pushed a glass of water into Holtzmann’s hands, but Holtz’s hands were shaking so badly that Rosa had to wrap her hands around the glass too, and help her drink it.

“Huh?” Holtzmann said.

“You went through that like a champ.” Rosa kissed the top of her head.

And Holtzmann _did_ feel a little bit badass.

* * *

They feel asleep on the sofa. When Holtzmann woke up a couple of hours later, she blinked and looked around the room. The lights were still on the table. She saw the harness there. What she didn’t see was a knife. There was _something_ there, but it wasn't a blade. Had Rosa been fucking with her the whole time?

She nudged Rosa awake. “Hey, Rosa. Time to spill your secrets.”

Rosa, who maybe hadn't been sleeping anyway, snorted. “All right, all right.” She clambered out from beneath Holtzmann and went over to the table, where she took out a knife from the case. “This is the one I held against your neck.” She tapped the cutting side against her palm. “Never been sharpened, see? And this is what I slammed against the wall.” She wiggled her fingers and made a fist.

“But I felt the handle—”

Rosa shrugged. “Fountain pen. Amy—my co-worker gave it to me. She was real excited about it. I dunno, I finally found something to do with it. Nipples: this thingie.” She waved something that look like a stainless steel medical implement or a crafting tool or something, a spiked wheel on a stick. “In your mouth: glass nail file. Never used it on my nails, I just tear ‘em off with my teeth like God intended.” She clinked the nail file against the champagne bucket. “The ice bucket keeps things cold, makes ‘em feel like sharp metal.”

“Whaaaaat...”

“Feeling ripped off?” Rosa asked.

“Oh hell no; this is fascinating, keep going.”

“And then this.” Rosa held up the leather harness in one hand, and a sleek, curved dildo made of a single piece of metal, including a shaped handle, in the other.

“You’re shitting me.” Holtzmann had been _so_ sure that everything had been real—or rather, apparently, she’d invented what she thought was real, and then believed her own inventions.

“You mad?”

“Yeah, no, it’s kind of refreshing to realize that for once, I made a decision that was _less_ crazy than I thought it was.” Holtzmann laughed.

Rosa put everything down and looked at Holtzmann very seriously. “But I meant it when I said you were strong as hell, ‘cuz fear doesn’t come from things. So it doesn’t matter if these were all a fakeout. You felt just what I wanted you to.”

“A mindfuck,” Holtzmann said.

“Damn straight.” Rosa coughed. “God, this's been the Gettysburg fuckin’ Address, sorry. You make me wordy. I hate it.”

Rosa came back to the sofa and looked sidelong at Holtzmann, a fleeting trace of uncertainty on her face. Holtzmann opened up the blanket and beckoned her in.

“Thanks for getting your revenge,” Holtzmann said. “I didn’t think I wanted to feel afraid, but y'know what, that was _more_ than worth it.”

Rosa slung an arm around Holtzmann’s shoulders. “Badasses aren’t people who never feel afraid. Those are dumbasses. You’re a badass, Holtzmann. Never forget that.”

Holtzmann fought off a blush by elbowing Rosa in the ribs. "How can I? You keep reminding me."

"Also a smartass. Which you won't let me forget." Rosa grinned, grabbed Holtzmann's offending elbow, and pinned her down on the cushions. "Why don't we both just shut up for a while."

**Author's Note:**

> This took me forever to write because knife play is pretty far from my own personal preferred kink list! I got some help from a more experienced writer, which was invaluable, and I think I finally found my way in through the angles of domination/power exchange and anticipation. I hope it works for you, too. 
> 
> As always, I would really love your comments. (Anonymous comments are OK!)
> 
> Disclaimer: Even mostly-faux knife play is serious fucking business (pun intended). Don’t do it this way. You need to know a lot more about your partner, and you need to follow better hygiene rules, just to start with.


End file.
